•&.£. 


GIFT  OF 


POEMS 


POEMS 


BY 

MARY   BAKER   EDDY 

AUTHOR  OF   "SCIENCE  AND   HEALTH,  WITH  KEY 
TO  THE  SCRIPTURES" 


BOSTON,   U.S.A. 
PUBLISHED  BY  ALLISON  V.   STEWART 

FOR    THE    TRUSTEES    UUDER    THE    WILL    OF    MART    BAKER    G.    EDDY 

FALMOUTH  AND  ST.  PAUL  STREETS 


Authorized  Literature  of 

THE  FIRST  CHURCH  OF  CHRIST,  SCIENTIST 

in  Boston,  Massachusetts 


COPYRIGHT,  1910 
BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


PREFACE  Wf  A  /KJ 


HE  poems  garnered  up  in  this  little  volume 
were  written  at  different  periods  in  the  life 
of  the  author,  dating  from  her  early  girlhood  up 
to  recent  years.  They  were  not  written  with  a 
view  of  making  a  book,  each  poem  being  the  spon 
taneous  outpouring  of  a  deeply  poetic  nature  and 
called  forth  by  some  experience  that  claimed  her 
attention. 

The  "Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,"  for  instance, 
was  written  while  the  author  was  contemplating 
this  lofty  New  Hampshire  crag,  whose  rugged  out 
lines  resemble  the  profile  of  a  human  face.  Inspired 
by  the  grandeur  of  this  masterpiece  of  nature's  handi 
work,  and  looking  "up  through  nature,  unto  nature's 
God,"  the  poem  began  to  take  form  in  her  thought, 
and  alighting  from  her  carriage,  she  seated  herself 
by  the  roadside  and  began  to  write.  Some  tourists 
who  were  passing,  and  who  made  her  acquaintance, 
asked  her  what  she  was  writing,  and  she  replied 
by  reading  the  poem  to  them.  They  were  so  pleased 
with  it  that  each  requested  a  copy,  which  was  sub 
sequently  'mailed  to  them.  Similar  requests  con 
tinued  to  reach  the  author  for  years  afterward,  until 


356653 


VI  PREFACE 

the  poem  finally  found  its  way  into  print,  appear 
ing,  together  with  "The  Valley  Cemetery,"  in  a 
book  ".Gems  for  You,"  published  in  Manchester, 
N.  H.,  in  1850,  and  again  in  Boston,  in  1856. 

The  poem  on  the  "Dedication  of  a  Temperance 
Hall,"  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  in  1866,  was  written  for 
that  occasion,  and  was  sung  by  the  audience  as  a 
dedicatory  hymn.  "The  Liberty  Bells"  appeared 
in  a  Lynn,  Mass.,  newspaper,  under  the  date  of 
February  3,  1865.  A  note  from  the  author,  which 
was  published  with  the  poem,  read  as  follows : 

"MR.  EDITOR:  —  In  1835  a  mob  in  Boston 
(although  Boston  has  since  been  the  pioneer  of 
anti-slavery)  dispersed  a  meeting  of  the  Female 
Anti-Slavery  Society,  and  assailed  the  person  of 
William  Lloyd  Garrison  with  such  fury  that  the 
city  authorities  could  protect  him  nowhere  but  in 
the  walls  of  a  jail.  To-day,  by  order  of  Governor 
Andrew,  the  bells  are  ringing  to  celebrate  the  pass 
ing  of  a  resolution  in  Congress  prohibiting  slavery 
in  the  United  States." 

All  of  the  author's  best-known  hymns  are  in 
cluded  in  this  collection,  as  well  as  many  poems 
written  in  girlhood  and  during  the  years  she  resided 
in  Lynn,  Mass.,  and  which  appeared  in  various 
publications  of  that  day.  Among  her  earliest  poems 
are  "  Upward,"  "Resolutions  for  the  Day," 
"Autumn"  (written  in  a  maple  grove),  "Alpha 
bet  and  Bayonet,"  and  "  The  Country-Seat"  (writ- 


PREFACE  Vll 

ten  while  visiting  a  family  friend  in  the  beautiful 
suburbs  of  Boston) ;  yet,  even  these  are  characterized 
by  the  same  lofty  trend  of  thought  that  reached  its 
fulness  in  her  later  productions. 

In  May,  1910,  Mrs.  Eddy  requested  her  pub 
lisher  to  prepare  a  few  bound  volumes  of  her  poems, 
for  private  distribution.  When  this  became  known 
to  her  friends,  they  urged  her  to  allow  a  popular 
edition  to  be  issued,  to  which  she  assented.  With 
grateful  acknowledgment,  therefore,  of  this  per 
mission,  this  little  volume  is  presented  to  the  public, 
in  the  hope  that  these  gems  of  purest  thought 
from  this  spiritually-minded  author  will  prove 
a  joy  to  the  heavy  laden  and  a  balm  to  the  weary 
heart. 

ADAM  H.  DICKEY. 

CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS.,  September  24,  1910. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 1 

CONSTANCY .> 3 

MOTHER'S  EVENING  PRAYER 4 

LOVE .  6 

I'M  SITTING  ALONE 8 

THE  UNITED  STATES  TO  GREAT  BRITAIN       ...  10 

CHRIST  MY  REFUGE 12 

"  FEED  MY  SHEEP  " 14 

THE  VALLEY  CEMETERY 15 

UPWARD 18 

THE  OAK  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN'S  SUMMIT  ....  20 

WOMAN'S  RIGHTS 21 

THE  NEW  CENTURY 22 

To  MY  ABSENT  BROTHER 23 

SIGNS  OF  THE  HEART 24 

FLOWERS 25 

To  THE  OLD  YEAR  —  1865 26 

INVOCATION  FOR  1868 28 

CHRISTMAS  MORN 29 

EASTER  MORN 30 

RESOLUTIONS  FOR  THE  DAY 32 

O  FOR  THY  WINGS,  SWEET  BIRD! 34 

COME  THOU 36 

WISH  AND  ITEM 38 

DEDICATION  OF  A  TEMPERANCE  HALL     ....  39 

LINES 41 

To  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  CHILDREN 43 

HOPE 45 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

To  ETTA 46 

NEVERMORE 47 

MEETING  OF  MY  DEPARTED  MOTHER  AND  HUSBAND  48 

ISLE  OF  WIGHT 51 

SPRING 53 

JUNE 55 

RONDELET  ......  57 

AUTUMN 58 

ALPHABET  AND  BAYONET 60 

THE  COUNTRY-SEAT 62 

To  ELLEN.     "SING  ME  THAT  SONG!"       ....  65 

LINES,  ON  VISITING  PINE  GROVE  CEMETERY       .      .  67 

A  VERSE 69 

TRUTH 70 

"THE  LIBERTY  BELLS" 71 

"MEMENTO" 73 

COMMUNION  HYMN 75 

LAUS  DEO 76 

OUR  NATIONAL  THANKSGIVING  HYMN 77 

SATISFIED   .                                           79 


POEMS 


POEMS 


OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 

IGANTIC    sire,  unfallen  still  thy 

crest! 
Primeval  dweller  where  the  wild 

winds  rest, 
Beyond  the  ken  of  mortal  e'er  to  tell 
What  power  sustains  thee  in  thy  rock-bound 
cell. 

Or  if,  when  first  creation  vast  began, 

And  far  the  universal  fiat  ran, 

"Let  there  be  light" — from  chaos  dark  set 

free, 
Ye  rose,  a  monument  of  Deity, 

Proud   from  yon   cloud-crowned  height   to 

look  henceforth 

On  insignificance  that  peoples  earth, 
Recalling  oft  the  bitter  draft  which  turns 
The  mind  to  meditate  on  what  it  learns. 
l 


2       POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

Stern,  passionless,  no  soul  those  looks  betray; 
Though  kindred  rocks,  to  sport  at  mortal 

clay  — 

Much  as  the  chisel  of  the  sculptor's  art 
"  Plays  round  the  head,  but  comes  not  to 

the  heart." 

Ah,  who  can  fathom  thee!    Ambitious  man, 
Like  a  trained  falcon  in  the  Gallic  van, 
Guided  and  led,  can  never  reach  to  thee 
With  all  the  strength  of  weakness  —  vanity! 

Great  as  thou  art,  and  paralleled  by  none, 
Admired  by  all,  still  art  thou  drear  and  lone! 
The  moon  looks   down  upon  thine  exiled 

height; 
The  stars,  so  cold,  so  glitteringly  bright, 

On  wings  of  morning  gladly  flit  away, 
Yield  to  the  sun's  more  genial,  mighty  ray; 
The  white  waves  kiss  the  murmuring  rill  — 
But  thy  deep  silence  is  unbroken  still. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


CONSTANCY 

HEN  starlight  blends  with  morn 
ing's  hue, 

I  miss  thee  as  the  flower  the  dew! 
When  noonday's  length'ning  shad 
ows  flee, 
I  think  of  thee,  I  think  of  thee! 

With  evening,  memories  reappear  — 
I  watch  thy  chair,  and  wish  thee  here; 
Till  sleep  sets  drooping  fancy  free 
To  dream  of  thee,  to  dream  of  thee! 

Since  first  we  met,  in  weal  or  woe 
It  hath  been  thus;  and  must  be  so 
Till  bursting  bonds  our  spirits  part 
And  Love  divine  doth  fill  my  heart. 

Written  many  years  ago. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKEK  EDDY 


MOTHER'S   EVENING   PRAYER 


GENTLE  presence,  peace  and  joy 

and  power; 
0  Life  divine,  that  owns  each 

waiting  hour, 
Thou  Love  that  guards  the  nestling's  falter 
ing  flight! 

Keep   Thou  my  child   on    upward  wing 
tonight. 

Love  is  our  refuge;  only  with  mine  eye 
Can  I  behold  the  snare,  the  pit,  the  fall: 

His  habitation  high  is  here,  and  nigh, 
His  arm  encircles  me,  and  mine,  and  all. 

O  make  me  glad  for  every  scalding  tear, 
For  hope  deferred,  ingratitude,  disdain! 

Wait,  and  love  more  for  every  hate,  and  fear 
No  ill,  —  since  God  is  good,  and  loss  is  gain. 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  His  mighty  wing; 

In  that  sweet  secret  of  the  narrow  way, 
Seeking  and  finding,  with  the  angels  sing: 

"Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,"  —  watch  and 
pray. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY       5 

No  snare,  no  fowler,  pestilence  or  pain; 
No  night  drops  down  upon  the  troubled 

breast, 
When  heaven's  aftersmile  earth's  tear-drops 

gain, 

And  mother  finds  her  home  and  heav'nly 
rest. 


6       POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 


LOVE 

ROOD  o'er  us  with  Thy  sheltering 

wing, 

'Neath  which  our  spirits  blend 
Like  brother  birds,  that  soar   and 


sing, 

And  on  the  same  branch  bend. 
The  arrow  that  doth  wound  the  dove 
Darts  not  from  those  who  watch  and  love. 

If  thou  the  bending  reed  wouldst  break 

By  thought  or  word  unkind, 
Pray  that  his  spirit  you  partake, 

Who  loved  and  healed  mankind: 
Seek  holy  thoughts  and  heavenly  strain, 
That  make  men  one  in  love  remain. 

Learn,  too,  that  wisdom's  rod  is  given 

For  faith  to  kiss,  and  know; 
That  greetings  glorious  from  high  heaven, 

Whence  joys  supernal  flow, 
Come  from  that  Love,  divinely  near, 
Which  chastens  pride  and  earth-born  fear, 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY       7 

Through  God,  who  gave  that  word  of  might 

Which  swelled  creation's  lay: 
"Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light." 

What  chased  the  clouds  away? 
'Twas  Love  whose  finger  traced  aloud 
A  bow  of  promise  on  the  cloud. 

Thou  to  whose  power  our  hope  we  give, 

Free  us  from  human  strife. 
Fed  by  Thy  love  divine  we  live, 

For  Love  alone  is  Life; 
And  life  most  sweet,  as  heart  to  heart 
Speaks  kindly  when  we  meet  and  part. 


8      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


I'M  SITTING  ALONE 

'M  sitting  alone  where  the  shadows 

fall 

In  somber  groups  at  the  vesper-call, 
Where  tear-dews  of  night  seek  the 
loving  rose, 
Her  bosom  to  fill  with  mortal  woes. 

I'm  waiting  alone  for  the  bridal  hour 
Of  nymph  and  naiad  from  woodland  bower; 
Till  vestal  pearls  that  on  leaflets  lay, 
Ravished  with  beauty  the  eye  of  day. 

I'm  watching  alone  o'er  the  starlit  glow, 

O'er  the  silv'ry  moon  and  ocean  flow; 

And  sketching  in  light  the  heaven  of  my 

youth  — 
Its  starry  hopes  and  its  waves  of  truth. 

I'm  dreaming  alone  of  its  changeful  sky  — 
What  rainbows  of  rapture  floated  by! 
Of  a  mother's  love,  that  no  words  could  speak 
When  parting  the  ringlets  to  kiss  my  cheek. 

I'm  thinking  alone  of  a  fair  young  bride, 
The  light  of  a  home  of  love  and  pride; 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY       9 

How  the  glance  of  her  husband's  watchful  eye 
Turned  to  his  star  of  idolatry. 

I'm  picturing  alone  a  glad  young  face, 
Upturned  to  his  mother's  in  playful  grace; 
And  the  unsealed  fountains  of  grief  and  joy 
That  gushed  at  the  birth  of  that  beautiful 
boy. 

I'm  weeping  alone  that  the  vision  is  fled, 
The  leaves  all  faded,  the  fruitage  shed, 
And  wishing  this  earth  more  gifts  from  above, 
Our  reason  made  right  and  hearts  all  love. 
Lynn,  Mass.,  September  3,  1866. 


10     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

THE   UNITED  STATES   TO 
GREAT   BRITAIN 

AIL,  brother!  fling  thy  banner 
To  the  billows  and  the  breeze; 
We  proffer  thee  warm  welcome 
With  our  hand,  though  not 
our  knees. 

Lord  of  the  main  and  manor! 

Thy  palm,  in  ancient  day, 
Didst  rock  the  country's  cradle 

That  wakes  thy  laureate's  lay. 

The  hoar  fight  is  forgotten; 

Our  eagle,  like  the  dove, 
Returns  to  bless  a  bridal 

Betokened  from  above. 

List,  brother!  angels  whisper 
To  Judah's  sceptered  race,  — 

"Thou  of  the  self -same  spirit, 
Allied  by  nations'  grace, 

"Wouldst  cheer  the  hosts  of  heaven; 

For  Anglo-Israel,  lo! 
Is  marching  under  orders; 

His  hand  averts  the  blow." 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     11 

Brave  Britain,  blest  America! 

Unite  your  battle-plan; 
Victorious,  all  who  live  it,  — 

The  love  for  God  and  man. 

Boston  Herald,  Sunday,  May  15,  1898. 


12     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


CHRIST  MY  REFUGE 

'ER  waiting  harpstrings  of  the  mind 
There  sweeps  a  strain, 
Low,  sad,  and  sweet,  whose  meas 
ures  bind 
The  power  of  pain, 

And  wake  a  white-winged  angel  throng 

Of  thoughts,  illumed 
By  faith,  and  breathed  in  raptured  song, 

With  love  perfumed. 

Then  His  unveiled,  sweet  mercies  show 

Life's  burdens  light. 
I  kiss  the  cross,  and  wake  to  know 

A  world  more  bright. 

And  o'er  earth's  troubled,  angry  sea 

I  see  Christ  walk, 
And  come  to  me,  and  tenderly, 

Divinely  talk. 

Thus  Truth  engrounds  me  on  the  rock, 

Upon  Life's  shore, 

'Gainst  which  the  winds   and  waves   can 
shock, 

Oh,  nevermore! 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     13 

From  tired  joy  and  grief  afar, 

And  nearer  Thee,  — 
Father,  where  Thine  own  children  are, 

I  love  to  be. 

My  prayer,  some  daily  good  to  do 

To  Thine,  for  Thee; 
An  offering  pure  of  Love,  whereto 

God  leadeth  me. 


14      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

"FEED  MY  SHEEP" 

HEPHERD,   show  me  how  to  go 
O'er  the  hillside  steep, 
How  to  gather,  how  to  sow,  — 

How  to  feed  Thy  sheep; 
I  will  listen  for  Thy  voice, 

Lest  my  footsteps  stray; 
I  will  follow  and  rejoice 
All  the  rugged  way. 

Thou  wilt  bind  the  stubborn  will, 

Wound  the  callous  breast, 
Make  self-righteousness  be  still, 

Break  earth's  stupid  rest. 
Strangers  on  a  barren  shore, 

Lab'ring  long  and  lone, 
We  would  enter  by  the  door, 

And  Thou  know'st  Thine  own; 

So,  when  day  grows  dark  and  cold, 

Tear  or  triumph  harms, 
Lead  Thy  lambkins  to  the  fold, 

Take  them  in  Thine  arms; 
Feed  the  hungry,  heal  the  heart, 

Till  the  morning's  beam; 
White  as  wool,  ere  they  depart, 

Shepherd,  wash  them  clean. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     15 


THE  VALLEY  CEMETERY 

E  soft  sighing  zephyrs  through  foli 
age  and  vine! 

Ye  echoing  moans  from  the  foot 
steps  of  time! 
Break  not  on  the  silence,  unless  thou  canst 

bear 

A  message  from  heaven  —  "No  partings  are 
there." 

Here  gloom  hath  enchantment  in  beauty's 

array, 

And  whispering  voices  are  calling  away  — 
Their  wooings  are  soft  as  the  vision  more 

vain  — 
I  would  live  in  their  empire,  or  die  in  their 

chain. 

Here  smileth  the  blossom  and  sunshine  not 

dead  — 
Flowers  fresh  as  the  pang  in  the  bosom  that 

bled,  - 
Yes,   constant   as  love    that   outliveth   the 

grave, 
And  tune  cannot  quench  in  oblivion's  wave. 


16     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

And  thou,  gentle  cypress,  in  evergreen  tears, 
Art    constant    and   hopeful    though   winter 

appears. 
My    heart   hath   thy  verdure,   it   blossoms 

above; 
Like  thee,  it  endureth  and  liveth  in  love. 

Ambition,  come  hither!    These  vaults  will 

unfold 

The  sequel  of  power,  of  glory,  or  gold; 
Then  rush  into  life,  and  roll  on  with  its  tide, 
And  bustle  and  toil  for  its  pomp  and  its  pride. 

The  tired  wings  flitting  through  far  crimson 

glow, 
Which  steepeth  the  trees  when  the  day-god 

is  low; 
The  voice  of  the  night-bird  must  here  send  a 

thrill 
To  the  heart  of  the  leaves  when  the  winds 

are  all  still. 

'Mid  graves  do  I  hear  the  glad  voices  that 

swell, 

And  call  to  my  spirit  with  seraphs  to  dwell; 
They  come  with  a  breath  from  the  verdant 

springtime, 
And  waken  my  joy,  as  in  earliest  prime. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     17 

Blest  beings  departed!    Ye  echoes  at  dawn! 
O  tell  of  their  radiant  home  and  its  morn! 
Then  I'll  think  of  its  glory,  and  rest  till  I  see 
My  loved  ones  in  glory  still  waiting  for  me. 


18  POEMS   BY   MAEY   BAKER  EDDY 


UPWARD 

'VE  watched  in  the  azure  the  eagle's 
proud  wing, 

His  soaring  majestic,  and  feather- 
some  fling  — 
Careening  in  liberty  higher  and  higher  — 
Like  genius  unfolding  a  quenchless  desire. 

Would  a  tear  dim  his  eye,  or  pinion  lose 

power 

To  gaze  on  the  lark  in  her  emerald  bower  ? 
When  higher  he  soareth  to  compass  his  rest, 
What  vision  so  bright  as  the  dream  in  his 

breast ! 

God's  eye  is  upon  him.      He  penciled  his 

path 
Whose  omniscient  notice  the  frail  fledgling 

hath. 
Though  lightnings  be  lurid  and  earthquakes 

may  shock, 
He  rides  on  the  whirlwind  or  rests  on  the 

rock. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     19 

My  course,  like  the  eagle's,  oh,  still  be  it  high, 
Celestial  the  breezes  that  waft  o'er  its  sky! 
God's  eye  is  upon  me  —  I  am  not  alone 
When  onward  and  upward  and  heavenward 

borne. 
Written  in  early  years. 


20     POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 


THE  OAK  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN'S 
SUMMIT 

H,   mountain   monarch,    at   whose 

feet  I  stand,  — 
Clouds  to  adorn  thy  brow,  skies 

clasp  thy  hand,  — 
Nature  divine,  in  harmony  profound, 
With   peaceful   presence   hath   begirt    thee 
round. 

And  thou,  majestic  oak,  from  yon  high  place 
Guard'st  thou  the  earth,  asleep  in  night's 

embrace,  — 

And  from  thy  lofty  summit,  pouring  down 
Thy  sheltering  shade,  her  noonday  glories 

crown? 

Whatever  thy  mission,  mountain  sentinel, 
To  my  lone  heart  thou  art  a  power  and  spell; 
A  lesson  grave,  of  life,  that  teacheth  me 
To  love  the  Hebrew  figure  of  a  tree. 

Faithful  and  patient  be  my  life  as  thine; 
As  strong  to  wrestle  with  the  storms  of  time; 
As  deeply  rooted  in  a  soil  of  love; 
As  grandly  rising  to  the  heavens  above. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     21 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS 

RAVE  on  her  monumental  pile: 
She  won  from   vice,   by  virtue's 

smile, 

Her  dazzling  crown,  her  sceptered 
throne, 
Affection's  wreath,  a  happy  home; 

The  right  to  worship  deep  and  pure, 
To  bless  the  orphan,  feed  the  poor; 
Last  at  the  cross  to  mourn  her  Lord, 
First  at  the  tomb  to  hear  his  word: 

To  fold  an  angel's  wings  below; 
And  hover  o'er  the  couch  of  woe; 
To  nurse  the  Bethlehem  babe  so  sweet, 
The  right  to  sit  at  Jesus'  feet; 

To  form  the  bud  for  bursting  bloom, 
The  hoary  head  with  joy  to  crown; 
In  short,  the  right  to  work  and  pray, 
"To  point  to  heaven  and  lead  the  way." 

Lynn,  Mass.,  May  6,  1876. 


22      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


THE  NEW  CENTURY 

HOU  God-crowned,  patient  century, 
Thine  hour  hath  come!    Eternity 
Draws  nigh  —  and,  beckoning  from 

above, 

One  hundred  years,  aflame  with  Love, 
Again  shall  bid  old  earth  good-by  — 
And,  lo,  the  light!  far  heaven  is  nigh! 
New  themes  seraphic,  Life  divine, 
And  bliss  that  wipes  the  tears  of  time 
Away,  will  enter,  when  they  may, 
And  bask  in  one  eternal  day. 

'Tis  writ  on  earth,  on  leaf  and  flower: 

Love  hath  one  race,  one  realm,  one  power. 

Dear  God!  how  great,  how  good  Thou  art 

To  heal  humanity's  sore  heart; 

To  probe  the  wound,  then  pour  the  balm  — 

A  life  perfected,  strong  and  calm. 

The  dark  domain  of  pain  and  sin 

Surrenders  —  Love  doth  enter  in, 

And  peace  is  won,  and  lost  is  vice: 

Right  reigns,  and  blood  was  not  its  price. 

Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  January,  1901. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     23 

TO  MY  ABSENT  BROTHER 

WELLS  there  a  shadow  on  thy 

brow  — 

A  look  that  years  impart? 
Does  there  a   thought   of  van 
ished  hours 
Come  ever  o'er  thy  heart? 

Or  give  those  earnest  eyes  yet  back 

An  image  of  the  soul, 
Mirrored  in  truth,  in  light  and  joy, 

Above  the  world's  control? 

So  may  their  gaze  be  ever  fraught 
With  utterance  deep  and  strong, 

Yielding  a  holy  strength  to  right, 
A  stern  rebuke  to  wrong! 

Thy  soul,  upborne  on  wisdom's  wings, 

In  brighter  morn  will  find 
Life  hath  a  higher  recompense 

Than  just  to  please  mankind. 

Supreme  and  omnipresent  God, 

Guide  him  in  wisdom's  way! 
Give  peaceful  triumph  to  the  truth, 

Bid  error  melt  away! 

Lynn,  Mass.,  November  8,  1866. 


24     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


SIGNS  OF  THE  HEART 

OME  to  me,  joys  of  heaven! 
Breathe  through  the  summer  air 
A  balm  —  the  long-lost  leaven 

Dissolving  death,  despair! 
O  little  heart, 
To  me  thou  art 
A  sign  that  never  can  depart. 

Come  to  me,  peace  on  earth! 

From  out  life's  billowy  sea,  — 
A  wave  of  welcome  birth,  — 
The  Life  that  lives  in  Thee! 
O  Love  divine, 
This  heart  of  Thine 
Is  all  I  need  to  comfort  mine. 

Come  when  the  shadows  fall, 

And  night  grows  deeply  dark; 
The  barren  brood,  O  call 
With  song  of  morning  lark; 
And  from  above, 
Dear  heart  of  Love, 
Send  us  thy  white-winged  dove. 

Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  1899. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


25 


FLOWERS 


IRRORS  of  morn 
Whence  the  dewdrop  is  born, 
Soft  tints  of  the  rainbow  and 

skies  — 
Sisters  of  song, 
What  a  shadowy  throng 
Around  you  in  memory  rise! 

Far  do  ye  flee, 

From  your  green  bowers  free, 

Fair  floral  apostles  of  love, 

Sweetly  to  shed 

Fragrance  fresh  round  the  dead, 

And  breath  of  the  living  above. 

Flowers  for  the  brave  — 
Be  he  monarch  or  slave, 
Whose  heart  bore  its  grief  and  is  still! 
Flowers  for  the  kind  — 
Aye,  the  Christians  who  wind 
Wreaths  for  the  triumphs  o'er  ill! 
Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  May  21,  1904. 


26     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


TO  THE  OLD  YEAR  — 1865 

ASS  on,  returnless  year! 
The   track    behind    thee   is   with 

glory  crowned; 

The  turf  where  thou  hast  trod  is 
holy  ground. 
Pass  proudly  to  thy  bier! 

Chill  was  thy  midnight  day, 
While  Justice  grasped  the  sword  to  hold  her 

throne, 
And  on  her  altar  our  loved  Lincoln's  own 

Great  willing  heart  did  lay. 

Thy  purpose  hath  been  won! 
Thou  point'st  thy  phantom  finger,  grim  and 

cold, 
To  the  dark  record  of  our  guilt  unrolled, 

And  smiling,  say'st,  "  'Tis  done! 

"This  record  I  will  bear 
To  the  dim  chambers  of  eternity  — 
The  chain  and  charter  I  have  lived  to  see 

Purged  by  the  cannon's  prayer; 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     27 

" Convulsion,  carnage,  war; 
The  pomp  and  tinsel  of  unrighteous  power; 
Bloated  oppression  in  its  awful  hour,  — 

I,  dying,  dare  abhor!" 

One  word,  receding  year, 
Ere    thou    grow    tremulous    with    shadowy 

night ! 
Say,  will  the  young  year  dawn  with  wisdom's 

light 
To  brighten  o'er  thy  bier? 

Or  we  the  past  forget, 
And  heal  her  wounds  too  tenderly  to  last? 
Or  let  today  grow  difficult  and  vast 

With  traitors  unvoiced  yet? 

Though  thou  must  leave  the  tear,  — 
Hearts  bleeding  ere  they  break  in  silence  yet, 
Wrong  jubilant  and  right  with  bright  eye 
wet,  — 

Thou  fast  expiring  year, 

Thy  work  is  done,  and  well: 
Thou  hast  borne  burdens,  and  may  take  thy 

rest, 
Pillow  thy  head  on  time's  untired  breast. 

Illustrious  year,  farewell! 

Lynn,  Mass.,  January  1,  1866. 


28     POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 


INVOCATION  FOR  1868 

ATHER  of  every  age, 

Of  every  rolling  sphere, 
Help  us  to  write  a  death 
less  page 
Of  truth,  this  dawning  year! 

Help  us  to  humbly  bow 
To  Thy  all-wise  behest  — 

What  e'er  the  gift  of  joy  or  woe, 
Knowing  Thou  knowest  best. 

Aid  our  poor  soul  to  sing 
Above  the  tempest's  glee; 

Give  us  the  eagle's  fearless  wing, 
The  dove's  to  soar  to  Thee! 

All-merciful  and  good, 
Hover  the  homeless  heart! 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  food 
In  knowing  what  Thou  art! 

Swampscott,  Mass.,  January  1,  1868. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      29 

CHRISTMAS  MORN 

LEST  Christmas  morn,  though 

murky  clouds 
Pursue  thy  way, 

Thy  light  was  born  where  storm 
enshrouds 
Nor  dawn  nor  day! 

Dear  Christ,  forever  here  and  near, 

No  cradle  song, 
No  natal  hour  and  mother's  tear, 

To  thee  belong. 

Thou  God-idea,  Life-encrowned, 

The  Bethlehem  babe  — 
Beloved,  replete,  by  flesh  embound  — 

Was  but  thy  shade! 

Thou  gentle  beam  of  living  Love, 

And  deathless  Life! 
Truth  infinite,  —  so  far  above 

All  mortal  strife, 

Or  cruel  creed,  or  earth-born  taint: 

Fill  us  today 
With  all  thou  art  —  be  thou  our  saint, 

Our  stay,  alway. 

December,  1898. 


30     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


EASTER  MORN 

ENTLY  thou  beckonest  from  the 

giant  hills 

The  new-born  beauty  in  the  emer 
ald  sky, 
And  wakening  murmurs  from  the  drowsy 

rills  — 

O  gladsome  dayspring!  'reft  of  mortal  sigh 
To  glorify  all  time  —  eternity  — 
With  thy  still  fathomless  Christ-majesty. 

E'en  as  Thou  gildest   gladdened  joy,  dear 

God, 
Give  risen  power  to  prayer;  fan  Thou  the 

flame 

Of  right  with  might;  and  midst  the  rod, 
And  stern,  dark  shadows  cast  on  Thy  blest 

name, 

Lift  Thou  a  patient  love  above  earth's  ire, 
Piercing  the  clouds  with  its  triumphal  spire. 

While  sacred  song  and  loudest  breath  of 

praise 

Echo  amid  the  hymning  spheres  of  light, — 
With  heaven's  lyres  and  angels'  loving  lays, — 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKEE  EDDY     31 

Send  to  the  loyal  struggle!  for  the  right, 
Joy  —  not  of  time,  nor  yet  by  nature  sown, 
But  the  celestial  seed  dropped  from  Love's 
throne. 

Prolong  the  strain ' '  Christ  risen ! ' '    Sad  sense, 

annoy 

No  more  the  peace  of  Soul's  sweet  solitude! 
Deep  loneness,  tear-filled  tones  of  distant  joy, 
Depart!    Glad  Easter  glows  with  grati 
tude — 
Love's  verdure  veils  the  leaflet's  wondrous 

birth  — 
Rich  rays,  rare  footprints  on  the  dust  of  earth. 

Not  life,  the  vassal  of  the  changeful  hour, 
Nor  burdened  bliss,  but  Truth  and  Love 

attest 
The  solemn  splendor  of  immortal  power,  — 

The  ever  Christ,  and  glorified  behest, 
Poured  on  the  sense  which  deems  no  suffering 

vain 

That  wipes  away  the  sting  of  death  —  sin, 
pain. 

Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  April  18,  1900. 


32     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


RESOLUTIONS  FOR  THE  DAY 

O  rise  in  the  morning  and  drink  in 

the  view  — 
The  home  where  I  dwell  in  the 

vale, 
The  blossoms  whose  fragrance  and  charms 

ever  new 
Are  scattered  o'er  hillside  and  dale; 

To  gaze  on  the  sunbeams  enkindling  the 
sky  — 

A  loftier  life  to  invite  — 
A  light  that  illumines  my  spiritual  eye, 

And  inspires  my  pen  as  I  write; 

To  form  resolutions,  with  strength  from  on 
high, 

Such  physical  laws  to  obey, 
As  reason  with  appetite,  pleasures  deny, 

That  health  may  my  efforts  repay; 

To  kneel  at  the  altar  of  mercy  and  pray 
That  pardon  and  grace,  through  His  Son, 

May  comfort  my  soul  all  the  wearisome  day, 
And  cheer  me  with  hope  when  'tis  done; 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     33 

To  daily  remember  my  blessings  and  charge, 
And  make  this  my  humble  request: 

Increase    Thou    my    faith    and    my    vision 

enlarge, 
And  bless  me  with  Christ's  promised  rest; 

To  hourly  seek  for  deliverance  strong 
From  selfishness,  sinfulness,  dearth, 

From  vanity,  folly,  and  all  that  is  wrong  — 
With  ambition  that  binds  us  to  earth; 

To  kindly  pass  over  a  wound,  or  a  foe 
(And  mem'ry  but  part  us  awhile), 

To  breathe  forth  a  prayer  that  His  love  I 

may  know, 
Whose  mercies  my  sorrows  beguile,  — 

If  these  resolutions  are  acted  up  to, 
And  faith  spreads  her  pinions  abroad, 

'Twill  be  sweet  when  I  ponder  the  days  may 

be  few 
That  waft  me  away  to  my  God. 

Written  in  girlhood. 


34     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


0  FOR  THY  WINGS,  SWEET  BIRD! 

FOR  thy  wings,  sweet  bird! 
And   soul  of  melody  by  being 

blest  - 

Like  thee,  my  voice  had  stirred 
Some  dear  remembrance  in  a  weary  breast. 

But  whither  wouldst  thou  rove, 

Bird  of  the  airy  wing,  and  fold  thy  plumes? 
In  what  dark  leafy  grove 

Wouldst  chant  thy  vespers  'mid  rich 
glooms? 

Or  sing  thy  love-lorn  note  — 

In  deeper  solitude,  where  nymph  or  saint 
Has  wooed  some  mystic  spot, 

Divinely  desolate  the  shrine  to  paint? 

Yet  wherefore  ask  thy  doom? 

Blessed  compared  with  me  thou  art  — 
Unto  thy  greenwood  home 

Bearing  no  bitter  memory  at  heart; 

Wearing  no  earthly  chain, 

Thou  canst  in  azure  bright  soar  far  above; 
Nor  pinest  thou  in  vain 

O'er  joys  departed,  unforgotten  love. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     35 

O  take  me  to  thy  bower! 

Beguile  the  lagging  hours  of  weariness 
With  strain  which  hath  strange  power 

To  make  me  love  thee  as  I  love  life  less! 

From  mortal  consciousness 

Which  binds  to  earth  —  infirmity  of  woe! 
Or  pining  tenderness  — 

Whose  streams  will  never  dry  or  cease  to 
flow; 

An  aching,  voiceless  void, 

Hushed  in  the  heart  whereunto  none  reply, 
And  in  the  cringing  crowd 

Companionless !  Bird,  bear  me  through 
the  sky! 

Written  more  than  sixty  years  ago  for  the  New  Hamp 
shire  Patriot. 


36     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


COME  THOU 

OME,  in  the  minstrel's  lay; 
When  two  hearts  meet, 
And  true  hearts  greet, 
And  all  is  morn  and  May. 


Come  Thou!  and  now,  anew, 
To  thought  and  deed 
Give  sober  speed, 
Thy  will  to  know,  and  do. 

Stay!  till  the  storms  are  o'er  - 
The  cold  blasts  done, 
The  reign  of  heaven  begun, 

And  Love,  the  evermore. 

Be  patient,  waiting  heart: 
Light,   Love  divine 
Is  here,  and  thine; 

You  therefore  cannot  part. 

"The  seasons  come  and  go: 
Love,  like  the  sea, 
Rolls  on  with  thee,  — 

But  knows  no  ebb  and  flow. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      37 

"  Faith,  hope,  and  tears,  triune, 

Above  the  sod 

Find  peace  in  God, 
And  one  eternal  noon." 

Oh,  Thou  hast  heard  my  prayer; 

And  I  am  blest! 

This  is  Thy  high  behest: 
Thou,  here  and  everywhere. 


38     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

WISH  AND  ITEM 

To  the  editor  of  the  Item,  Lynn,  Mass. 

HOPE  the  heart  that's  hungry 
For  things  above  the  floor, 

Will  find  within  its  portals 
An  item  rich  in  store; 

That  melancholy  mortals 
Will  count  their  mercies  o'er, 

And  learn  that  Truth  and  wisdom 
Have  many  items  more; 

That  when  a  wrong  is  done  us, 
It  stirs  no  thought  of  strife; 

And  Love  becomes  the  substance, 
As  item,  of  our  life; 

That  every  ragged  urchin, 
With  bare  feet  soiled  or  sore, 

Share  God's  most  tender  mercies, — 
Find  items  at  our  door. 

Then  if  we've  done  to  others 
Some  good  ne'er  told  before, 

When  angels  shall  repeat  it, 
'Twill  be  an  item  more. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     39 

DEDICATION  OF  A  TEMPERANCE 
HALL 

UTHOR  of  all  divine 

Gifts,  lofty,  pure,  and  free, 
Temperance   and    truth  in    song 

sublime 
An  offering  bring  to  Thee! 

A  temple,  whose  high  dome 

Rose  from  a  water-cup; 
And  from  its  altar  to  Thy  throne 

May  we  press  on  and  up! 

And  she  —  last  at  the  cross, 
First  at  the  tomb,  who  waits  — 

Woman  —  will  watch  to  cleanse  from  dross 
The  cause  she  elevates. 

\ 

Sons  of  the  old  Bay  State, 

Work  for  our  glorious  cause! 
And  be  your  waiting  hearts  elate, 
Since  temperance  makes  your  laws. 

" Temples  of  Honor/'  all, 

"Social,"  or  grand,  or  great, 
This  blazoned,  brilliant  temperance  hall 

To  Thee  we  dedicate. 


40      POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 

"Good  Templars"  one  and  all, 
Good  "Sons,"  and  daughters,  too, 

We  dedicate  this  temperance  hall 
To  God,  to  Truth,  and  you! 

Lynn,  Mass.,  August  4,  1866. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     41 

LINES 

Come,  rest  in  this  bosom,  my  own  stricken  deer. 

—  Moore. 

AS  that  fold  for  the  lambkin  soft 

virtue's  repose, 

Where    the    weary    and    earth- 
stricken  lay  down  their  woes, — 
When  the  fountain  and  leaflet  are  frozen  and 

sere, 

And  the  mountains  more  friendless, — their 
home  is  not  here? 

When  the  herd  had  forsaken,  and  left  them 

to  stray 
From  the  green  sunny  slopes  of  the  woodland 

away; 

Where  the  music  of  waters  had  fled  to  the  sea, 
And  this  life  but  one  given  to  suffer  and  be? 

Was  it  then  thou  didst  call  them  to  banish 

all  pain, 
And  the  harpstring,  just  breaking,  reecho 

again 
To  a  strain  of  enchantment  that  flowed  as 

the  wave, 
Where  they  waited  to  welcome  the  murmur 

it  gave? 


42     POEMS  BY  MAEY  BAKER  EDDY 

Oh,  there's  never  a  shadow  where  sunshine 

is  not, 

And  never  the  sunshine  without  a  dark  spot; 
Yet  there's  one  will  be  victor,  for  glory  and 

fame, 
Without  heart  to  define  them,  were  only  a 

name! 

Lynn,  Mass.,  February  19,  1868. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     43 

TO  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  CHILDREN 

Who  sent  me  the  picture  depictive  of  Isaiah  xi. 

ESUS  loves  you!  so  does  mother: 
Glad  thy  Eastertide: 
Loving  God  and  one  another, 
You  in  Him  abide. 


Ours  through  Him  who  gave  you  to  us,  — 

Gentle  as  the  dove, 
Fondling  e'en  the  lion  furious, 

Leading  kine  with  love. 

Father,  in  Thy  great  heart  hold  them 

Ever  thus  as  Thine! 
Shield  and  guide  and  guard  them;  and,  when 

At  some  siren  shrine 
They  would  lay  their  pure  hearts'  off  ring, 

Light  with  wisdom's  ray  — 
Beacon  beams  —  athwart  the  weakly, 

Rough  or  treacherous  way. 

Temper  every  trembling  footfall, 

Till  they  gain  at  last  — 
Safe  in  Science,  bright  with  glory  — 

Just  the  way  Thou  hast: 


44      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

Then,  O  tender  Love  and  wisdom, 
Crown  the  lives  thus  blest 

With  the  guerdon  of  Thy  bosom, 
Whereon  they  may  rest! 

Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  April  3,  1899. 


POEMS   BY   MARY   BAKER  EDDY  45 


HOPE 

IS  borne  on  the  zephyr  at  eventide's 

hour; 
It  falls  on  the  heart  like  the  dew 

on  the  flower,  — 
An  infinite  essence  from  tropic  to  pole, 
The  promise,  the  home,  and  the  heaven 
of  Soul. 

Hope  happifies  life,  at  the  altar  or  bower, 
And  loosens  the  fetters  of  pride  and  of  power; 
It  comes  through  our    tears,   as    the    soft 

summer  rain, 
To  beautify,  bless,  and  make  joyful  again. 

The  harp  of  the  minstrel,  the  treasure  of  tune; 
A  rainbow  of  rapture,  overarching,  divine; 
The  God-given  mandate  that  speaks  from 

above,  — 
No  place  for  earth's  idols,  but  hope  thou,  and 

love. 


46      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


TO  ETTA 

AIR  girl,  thy  rosebud  heart  rests 

warm 

Within  life's  summer  bowers! 
Nor  blasts  of  winter's  angry  storm, 
Nor  April's  changeful  showers, 

Its  leaves  have  shed  or  bowed  the  stem; 

But  gracefully  it  stands  — 
A  gem  in  beauty's  diadem, 

Unplucked  by  ruthless  hands. 

Thus  may  it  ripen  into  bloom, 

Fresh  as  the  fragrant  sod, 
And  yield  its  beauty  and  perfume 

An  offering  pure  to  God. 

\ 

Sweet  as  the  poetry  of  heaven, 

Bright  as  her  evening  star, 
Be  all  thy  life  hi  music  given, 

While  beauty  fills  each  bar. 

Lynn,  Mass.,  December  8,  1866. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      47 

NEVERMORE 

RE  the  dear  days  ever  coining  again, 

As  sweetly  they  came  of  yore, 
Singing  the  olden  and  dainty  re 
frain, 
Oh,  ever  and  nevermore? 

Ever  to  gladness  and  never  to  tears, 

Ever  the  gross  world  above; 
Never  to  toiling  and  never  to  fears, 

Ever  to  Truth  and  to  Love? 

Can  the  forever  of  happiness  be 

Outside  this  ever  of  pain? 
Will  the  hereafter  from  suffering  free 

The  weary  of  body  and  brain? 

Weary  of  sobbing,  like  some  tired  child 

Over  the  tears  it  has  shed; 
Weary  of  sowing  the  wayside  and  wild, 

Watching  the  husbandman  fled; 

Nevermore  reaping  the  harvest  we  deem, 

Evermore  gathering  in  woe  — 
Say,   are  the  sheaves  and  the  gladness  a 
dream, 

Or  to  the  patient  who  sow? 

Lynn,  Mass.,  September  3,  1871. 


48     POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 

MEETING    OF    MY   DEPARTED 
MOTHER  AND  HUSBAND 

OY  for  thee,  happy  friend!  thy  bark 

is  past 

The    dangerous    sea,    and    safely 
moored  at  last  — 

Beyond  rough  foam. 

Soft  gales  celestial,  in  sweet  music  bore  — 
Spirit  emancipate  for  this  far  shore  — 

Thee  to  thy  home. 

"You've  traveled  long,  and  far  from  mortal 

joys, 
To  Soul's  diviner  sense,  that  spurns  such  toys, 

Brave  wrestler,  lone. 
Now  see  thy  ever-self;  Life  never  fled; 
Man  is  not  mortal,  never  of  the  dead : 

The  dark  unknown. 

"When  hope  soared  high,  and  joy  was  eagle- 
plumed, 

Thy  pinions  drooped;  the  flesh  was  weak, 
and  doomed 

To  pass  away. 

But  faith  triumphant  round  thy  death-couch 
shed 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     49 

Majestic  forms;  and  radiant  glory  sped 

The  dawning  day. 

"  Intensely  grand  and  glorious  life's  sphere, — 
Beyond  the  shadow,  infinite  appear 

Life,  Love  divine,  — 
Where   mortal   yearnings   come   not,    sighs 

are  stilled, 

And  home  and  peace  and  hearts  are  found 
and  filled, 

Thine,  ever  thine. 

"Bearest  thou  no  tidings  from  our  loved  on 

earth, 

The  toiler  tireless  for  Truth's  new  birth 

All-unbeguiled? 

Our  joy  is  gathered  from  her  parting  sigh: 
This  hour  looks  on  her  heart  with  pitying 
eye,— 

What  of  my  child?" 

"When,  severed  by  death's  dream,  I  woke 

to  Life, 
She  deemed  I  died,  and  could  not  know  the 

strife 

At  first  to  fill 
That  waking  with  a  love  that  steady  turns 


50     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

To  God;  a  hope  that  ever  upward  yearns, 
Bowed  to  His  will. 

"  Years  had  passed  o'er  thy  broken  household 

band, 
When  angels  beckoned  me  to  this  bright  land, 

With  thee  to  meet. 
She  that  has  wept  o'er  thee,  kissed  my  cold 

brow, 

Rears  the  sad  marble  to  our  memory  now, 
In  lone  retreat. 

"By  the  remembrance  of  her  loyal  life, 
And  parting  prayer,  I  only  know  my  wife, 

Thy  child,  shall  come  — 
Where  farewells  cloud  not  o'er  our  ransomed 

rest  — 
Hitherto  reap,  with  all  the  crowned  and  blest, 

Of  bliss  the  sum. 

"When  Love's  rapt   sense  the  heartstrings 

gently  sweep 
With  joy  divinely  fair,  the  high  and  deep, 

To  call  her  home, 

She  shall  mount  upward  unto  purer  skies; 
We  shall  be  waiting,  in  what  glad  surprise, 

Our  spirits'  own!" 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      51 

ISLE  OF  WIGHT 

On  receiving  a  painting  of  the  Isle. 

SLE  of  beauty,  thou  art  singing 
To  my  sense  a  sweet  refrain; 
To  my  busy  mem'ry  bringing 
Scenes  that  I  would  see  again. 


Chief,  the  charm  of  thy  reflecting, 
Is  the  moral  that  it  brings; 

Nature,  with  the  mind  connecting, 
Gives  the  artist's  fancy  wings. 

Soul,  sublime  'mid  human  debris, 
Paints  the  limner's  work,  I  ween, 

Art  and  Science,  all  unweary, 
Lighting  up  this  mortal  dream. 

Work  ill-done  within  the  misty 
Mine  of  human  thoughts,  we  see 

Soon  abandoned  when  the  Master 
Crowns  life's  Cliff  for  such  as  we. 

Students  wise,  he  maketh  now  thus 
Those  who  fish  in  waters  deep, 

When  the  buried  Master  hails  us 
From  the  shores  afar,  complete. 


52      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

Art  hath  bathed  this  isthmus-lordling 
In  a  beauty  strong  and  meek 

As  the  rock,  whose  upward  tending 
Points  the  plane  of  power  to  seek. 

Isle  of  beauty,  thou  art  teaching 
Lessons  long  and  grand,  tonight, 

To  my  heart  that  would  be  bleaching 
To  thy  whiteness,  Cliff  of  Wight. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     53 


SPRING 

OME  to  thy  bowers,  sweet  spring, 
And  paint  the  gray,  stark  trees, 
The  bud,  the  leaf  and  wing  — 
Bring  with  thee  brush  and  breeze. 


And  soft  thy  shading  lay 
On  vale  and  woodland  deep; 

With  sunshine's  lovely  ray 
Light  o'er  the  rugged  steep. 

More  softly  warm  and  weave 
The  patient,  timid  grass, 

Till  heard  at  silvery  eve 
Poor  robin's  lonely  mass. 

Bid  faithful  swallows  come 
And  build  their  cozy  nests, 

Where  wind  nor  storm  can  numb 
Their  downy  little  breasts. 

Come  at  the  sad  heart's  call, 
To  empty  summer  bowers, 

Where  still  and  dead  are  all 
The  vernal  songs  and  flowers. 


54      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

It  may  be  months  or  years 
Since  joyous  spring  was  there. 

O  come  to  clouds  and  tears 

With  light  and  song  and  prayer! 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     55 


JUNE 

HENCE  are  thy  wooings,  gentle 

June? 

Thou  hast  a  naiad's  charm; 
Thy    breezes    scent    the    rose's 
breath; 

Old  Time  gives  thee  her  palm. 
The  lark's  shrill  song  doth  wake  the  dawn: 

The  eve-bird's  forest  flute 
Gives  back  some  maiden  melody, 
Too  pure  for  aught  so  mute. 

The  fairy-peopled  world  of  flowers, 

Enraptured  by  thy  spell, 
Looks  love  unto  the  laughing  hours, 

Through  woodland,  grove,  and  dell; 
And  soft  thy  footstep  falls  upon 

The  verdant  grass  it  weaves; 
To  melting  murmurs  ye  have  stirred 

The  timid,  trembling  leaves. 

When  sunshine  beautifies  the  shower, 
As  smiles  through  teardrops  seen, 

Ask  of  its  June,  the  long-hushed  heart, 
What  hath  the  record  been? 


56     POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 

And  thou  wilt  find  that  harmonies, 
In  which  the  Soul  hath  part, 

Ne'er  perish  young,  like  things  of  earth, 
In  records  of  the  heart. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     57 


RONDELET 

THE  flowers  of  June 
The  gates  of  memory  unbar: 

The  flowers  of  June 

Such  old-time  harmonies  retune, 
I  fain  would  keep  the  gates  ajar, — 
So  full  of  sweet  enchantment  are 

The  flowers  of  June. 

—  James  T.  White. 

HO  loves  not  June 
Is  out  of  tune 
With  love  and  God; 
The  rose  his  rival  reigns, 

The  stars  reject  his  pains, 

His  home  the  clod! 

And  yet  I  trow, 

When   sweet   rondeau 

Doth  play  a  part, 

The  curtain  drops  on  June; 

Veiled  is  the  modest  moon  — 

Hushed  is  the  heart. 


58     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


AUTUMN 

UICKLY  earth's  jewels  disappear; 

The  turf,  whereon  I  tread, 
Ere  autumn  blanch  another  year, 
May  rest  above  my  head. 


Touched  by  the  finger  of  decay 

Is  every  earthly  love; 
For  joy,  to  shun  my  weary  way, 

Is  registered  above.  •> 

The  languid  brooklets  yield  their  sighs, 

A  requiem  o'er  the  tomb 
Of  sunny  days  and  cloudless  skies, 

Enhancing  autumn's  gloom. 

The  wild  winds  mutter,  howl,  and  moan, 
To  scare  my  woodland  walk, 

And  frightened  fancy  flees,  to  roam 
Where  ghosts  and  goblins  stalk. 

The  cricket's  sharp,  discordant  scream 
Fills  mortal  sense  with  dread; 

More  sorrowful  it  scarce  could  seem; 
It  voices  beauty  fled. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKEK  EDDY     59 

Yet  here,  upon  this  faded  sod,  — 

0  happy  hours  and  fleet,  — 
When  songsters'  matin  hymns  to  God 

Are  poured  in  strains  so  sweet, 

My  heart  unbidden  joins  rehearse, 

1  hope  it's  better  made, 
When  mingling  with  the  universe, 

Beneath  the  maple's  shade. 

Written  in  girlhood,  in  a  maple  grove. 


60     POEMS  BY  MAKY  BAKER  EDDY 


ALPHABET  AND  BAYONET 

F  fancy  plumes  aerial  flight, 
Go  fix  thy  restless  mind 
On   learning's   lore   and  wisdom's 

might, 

And  live  to  bless  mankind. 
The  sword  is  sheathed,  'tis  freedom's  hour, 

No  despot  bears  misrule, 
Where  knowledge  plants  the  foot  of  power 
In  our  God-blessed  free  school. 

Forth  from  this  fount  the  streamlets  flow, 

That  widen  in  their  course. 
Hero  and  sage  arise  to  show 

Science  the  mighty  source, 
And  laud  the  land  whose  talents  rock 

The  cradle  of  her  power, 
And  wreaths  are    twined  round  Plymouth 
Rock, 

From  erudition's  bower. 

Farther  than  feet  of  chamois  fall, 

Free  as  the  generous  air, 
Strains  nobler  far  than  clarion  call 

Wake  freedom's  welcome,  where 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     61 

Minerva's  silver  sandals  still 

Are  loosed,  and  not  effete; 
Where  echoes  still  my  day-dreams  thrill, 

Woke  by  her  fancied  feet. 


62     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


THE  COUNTRY-SEAT 

ILD   spirit   of  song,  —  midst  the 

zephyrs  at  play 
In  bowers  of  beauty,  —  I  bend  to 

thy  lay, 

And  woo,  while  I  worship  in  deep  sylvan  spot, 
The  Muses'  soft  echoes  to  kindle  the  grot. 
Wake  chords  of  my  lyre,  with  musical  kiss, 
To  vibrate  and  tremble  with  accents  of  bliss. 

Here  morning  peers  out,  from  her  crimson 

repose, 
On  proud  Prairie  Queen  and  the  modest 

Moss-rose; 
And  vesper  reclines  —  when  the  dewdrop  is 

shed 

On  the  heart  of  the  pink  —  in  its  odorous  bed; 
But  Flora  has  stolen  the  rainbow  and  sky, 
To  sprinkle  the  flowers  with  exquisite  dye. 

Here  fame-honored  hickory  rears  his  bold 

form, 
And  bares  a  brave  breast  to  the  lightning 

and  storm, 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     63 

While  palm,  bay,  and  laurel,  in  classical 
glee, 

Chase  tulip,  magnolia,  and  fragrant  fringe- 
tree; 

And  sturdy  horse-chestnut  for  centuries  hath 
given 

Its  feathery  blossom  and  branches  to  heaven. 

Here  is  life !     Here  is  youth !     Here  the  poet's 

world-wish, — 
Cool  waters  at  play  with  the  gold-gleaming 

fish; 

While  cactus  a  mellower  glory  receives 
From  light  colored  softly  by  blossom  and 

leaves; 

And  nestling  alder  is  whispering  low, 
In  lap  of  the  pear-tree,  with  musical  flow.1 

Dark  sentinel  hedgerow  is  guarding  repose, 
Midst  grotto  and  songlet  and  streamlet  that 

flows 
Where  beauty  and  perfume  from  buds  burst 

away, 
And  ope  their  closed  cells  to  the  bright, 

laughing  day; 

1  An  alder  growing  from  the  bent  branch  of  a  pear- 
tree. 


64     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

Yet,  dwellers  in  Eden,  earth  yields  you  her 

tear,  — 
Oft  plucked  for  the  banquet,  but  laid  on  the 

bier. 

Earth's  beauty  and  glory  delude  as  the  shrine 
Or  fount  of  real  joy  and  of  visions  divine; 
But  hope,  as  the  eaglet  that  spurneth  the  sod, 
May  soar  above  matter,  to  fasten  on  God, 
And  freely  adore  all  His  spirit  hath  made, 
Where  rapture  and  radiance  and  glory  ne'er 
fade. 

Oh,  give  me  the  spot  where  affection  may 

dwell 
In  sacred   communion  with  home's  magic 

spell! 
Where  flowers  of  feeling  are  fragrant  and 

fair, 
And  those  we  most  love  find  a  happiness 

rare; 
But  clouds  are  a  presage,  —  they  darken  my 

lay: 
This  life  is  a  shadow,  and  hastens  away. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      65 


TO  ELLEN.    "SING  ME  THAT  SONG!" 

SING  me  that  song!    My  spirit  is 

sad, 

Life's  pulses  move  fitful  and  slow; 
A    meeting    with    loved    ones    in 
dreams  I  have  had, 
Whose  robes  were  as  spotless  as  snow: 
A  phantom  of  joy,  it  fled  with  the  light, 

And  left  but  a  parting  in  air. 
My  soul  is  enchained  to  life's  dreary  night, 
O  sing  me  " Sweet  hour  of  prayer"! 

Ah,  sleep,  twin  sister  of  death  and  of  night! 

My  thoughts  'neath  thy  drap'ry  still  lie. 
Alas!  that  from  dreams  so  boundless  and 
bright 

We  waken  to  life's  dreary  sigh. 
Those  moments  most  sweet  are  fleetest  alway, 

For  love  claspeth  earth's  raptures  not  long, 
Till  darkness  and  death  like  mist  melt  away, 

To  rise  to  a  seraph's  new  song. 

O'er  ocean  or  Alps,  the  stranger  who  roams 
But  gathers  a  wreath  for  his  bier; 

For  life  hath  its  music  in  low  minor  tones, 
And  man  is  the  cause  of  its  tear. 


66     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

But  drops  of  pure  nectar  our  brimming  cup 
fill, 

When  we  walk  by  that  murmuring  stream; 
Or  when,  like  the  thrill  of  that  mountain  rill, 

Your  songs  float  in  memory's  dream. 

Sweet  spirit  of  love,  at  soft  eventide 

Wake  gently  the  chords  of  her  lyre, 
And  whisper  of  one  who  sat  by  her  side 

To  join  with  the  neighboring  choir; 
And  tell  how  that  heart  is  silent  and  sad, 

No  melody  sweeps  o'er  its  strings! 
Tis  breaking  alone,  but  a  young  heart  and 
glad  — 

Might  cheer  it,  perchance,  when  she  sings. 

Lynn,  Mass.,  August  25,  1866. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      67 

LINES,    ON    VISITING   PINE   GROVE 
CEMETERY 

H,  why  should  the  brief  bliss  of  life's 

little  day 

Grow  cold  in  this  spot  as  the  spirit 
less  clay, 

And  thought  be  at  work  with  the  long- 
buried  hours, 

And  tears  be  bedewing  these  fresh-smiling 
flowers! 

Ah,  wherefore  the  memory  of  dear  ones 
deemed  dead 

Should  bow  thee,  as  winds  bow  the  tall  wil 
low's  head! 

Beside  you  they  walk  while  you  weep,  and 
but  pass 

From  your  sight  as  the  shade  o'er  the  dark 
wavy  grass. 

The  cypress  may  mourn  with  her  evergreen 

tears, 
And,  like  the  blue  hyacinth,  change  not  with 

years; 

Yea,  flowers  of  feeling  may  blossom  above, 
To  yield  earth  the  fragrance  of  goodness  and 

love; 


68      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

So  one  heart  is  left  me  —  she  breathes  in  my 

ear, 
"I'm  living  to  bless  thee;  for  this  are  we 

here." 
And  when  this  sweet  pledge  to  my  lone  heart 

was  given, 
Earth  held  but  this  joy,  or  this  happiness 

heaven! 

Here  the  rock  and  the  sea  and  the  tall  wav 
ing  pine 

Enchant  deep  the  senses,  —  subduing,  sub 
lime; 

Yet  stronger  than  these  is  the  spell  that  hath 
power 

To  sweep  o'er  the  heartstrings  in  memory's 
hour. 

Of  the  past  'tis  the  talisman,  when  we  three 

met, 
When  the  star  of  our  friendship  arose  not  to 

set; 

And  pure  as  its  rising,  and  bright  as  the  star, 
Be  its  course  through  our  heavens,  whether 

near  or  afar. 
Lynn,  Mass.,  August  24,  1865. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      69 

A    VERSE 

Mother's  New  Year  Gift  to  the  Little  Children 

ATHER-Mother  God, 

Loving  me,  — 
Guard  me  when  I  sleep; 
Guide  my  little  feet 
Up  to  Thee. 

To  the  Big  Children 

Father-Mother  good,  lovingly 

Thee  I  seek,  — 

Patient,  meek, 
In  the  way  Thou  hast,  — 
Be  it  slow  or  fast, 

Up  to  Thee. 


70     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

TRUTH 
EYOND  the  clouds,  away 


In  the  dim  distance,  lay 
A  bright  and  golden  shower 
At  sunset's  radiant  hour,  — 
Like  to  the  soul's  glad  immortality, 
Making  this  life  divine, 
Making  its  waters  wine, 
Giving  the  glory  that  eye  cannot  see. 

In  God  there  is  no  night,  — 

Truth  is  eternal  light, 

A  help  forever  near; 

For  sinless  sense  is  here 
In  Truth,  the  Life,  the  Principle  of  man. 

Away,  then,  mortal  sense! 

Then,  error,  get  thee  hence, 
Thy  discord  ne'er  in  harmony  began! 

Immortal  Truth,  —  since  heaven  rang, 

The  while  the  glad  stars  sang 

To  hail  creation's  glorious  morn  — 

As  when  this  babe  was  born, 
A  painless  heraldry  of  Soul,  not  sense,  — 

Shine  on  our  'wildered  way, 

Give  God's  idea  sway, 
And  sickness,  sin,  and  death  are  banished 
hence. 

Lynn,  Mass.,  April,  1871. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     71 

"THE  LIBERTY  BELLS19 

HIS  is  the  hour  they  then  foretold  — 
When  earth,  inebriate  with  crime, 
Laughed  right  to  scorn,  and  guilt, 

grown  bold, 
Knelt  worshiping  at  mammon's  shrine. 

This  is  the  hour!     Corruption's  band 
Is  driven  back;  and  periled  right, 

Rescued  by  the  " fanatic"  hand, 
Spans  our  broad  heaven  of  light. 

Righteousness  ne'er — awestruck  or  dumb — 
Feared  for  an  hour  the  tyrant's  heel! 

Injustice  to  the  combat  sprang; 
God  to  the  rescue  —  Liberty,  peal! 

Joy  is  in  every  belfry  bell  — 
Joy  for  the  captive!    Sound  it  long! 

Ye  who  have  wept  fourscore  can  tell 
The  holy  meaning  of  their  song. 

Tis  freedom's  birthday  —  blood-bought 
boon! 

0  war-rent  flag!    0  soldier-shroud! 
Thine  be  the  glory  —  nor  too  soon 

Is  heard  your  "Cry  aloud!" 


72      POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

0  not  too  soon  is  rent  the  chain 
And  charter,  trampling  right  in  dust! 

Till  God  is  God  no  longer  —  ne'er  again 
Quench  liberty  that's  just. 

Lynn,  Mass.,  February  3r  1865. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY     73 


"MEMENTO" 

Respectfully  inscribed  to  my  friends  in  Lynn. 

COME  to  thee 

O'er  the  moonlit  sea, 

When  the  hoarse  wave  revisits  thy 

shore! 
When  waters  shout, 
And  the  stars  peep  out, 
I  am  with  thee  in  spirit  once  more. 

Then  list  the  moan 

Of  the  billows'  foam, 
Laving  with  surges  thy  silv'ry  beach! 

Night's  dewy  eye, 

The  sea-mew's  lone  cry, 
Witness  my  presence  and  utter  my  speech. 

Pleasant  a  grave 

By  the  "Rock"  or  wave, 
And  afar  from  life's  turmoil  its  goal. 

No  sculptured  lie, 

Or  hypocrite  sigh, 
E'er  to  mock  the  bright  truth  of  the  soul. 


74     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 

Friends,  will  not  ye 

Think  kindly  of  me, 
In  those  moments  to  memory  bestowed? 

Smile  on  me  yet, 

O  blue  eyes  and  jet, 
Soft  as  when  parting  thy  sympathy  glowed! 

March  3,  1867. 


POEMS   BY   MARY   BAKZR  ,EI>DY  75 


COMMUNION  HYMN 

AW  ye  my  Saviour?    Heard  ye  the 

glad  sound? 

Felt  ye  the  power  of  the  Word? 
'Twas  the  Truth  that  made  us  free, 
And  was  found  by  you  and  me 
In  the  life  and  the  love  of  our  Lord. 

Mourner,    it    calls    you,  —  "Come    to    my 

bosom, 

Love  wipes  your  tears  all  away, 
And  will  lift  the  shade  of  gloom, 
And  for  you  make  radiant  room 
Midst  the  glories  of  one  endless  day." 

Sinner,  it  calls  you,  —  "  Come  to  this  fountain, 

Cleanse  the  foul  senses  within; 

'Tis  the  Spirit  that  makes  pure, 

That  exalts  thee,  and  will  cure 

All  thy  sorrow  and  sickness  and  sin." 

Strongest  deliverer,  friend  of  the  friendless, 
Life  of  all  being  divine: 
Thou  the  Christ,  and  not  the  creed; 
Thou  the  Truth  in  thought  and  deed; 
Thou  the  water,  the  bread,  and  the  wine. 


76     POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY 


LA  US  DEO! 

The  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  The  Mother  Church. 

AUS  DEO,  it  is  done! 
Rolled  away  from  loving  heart 

Is  a  stone. 
Lifted  higher,  we  depart, 

Having  one. 

Laus  Deo,  —  on  this  rock 
(Heaven  chiseled  squarely  good) 

Stands  His  church,  — 
God  is  Love,  and  understood 

By  His  flock. 

Laus  Deo,  night  star-lit 
Slumbers  not  in  God's  embrace; 

Be  awake; 
Like  this  stone,  be  in  thy  place: 

Stand,  not  sit. 

Grave,  silent,  steadfast  stone, 
Dirge  and  song  and  shoutings  low 

In  thy  heart 
Dwell  serene,  —  and  sorrow?    No, 

It  has  none, 

Laus  Deo! 


POEMS   BY   MARY   B AKEIl > 


NATIONAL  THANKSGIVING 
HYMN 


OD  of  the  rolling  year!  to  Thee  we 

raise 
A  nation's  holiest  hymn  in  grateful 

praise  ! 

Plenty  and  peace  abound  at  Thy  behest, 
Yet  wherefore  this  Thy  love?   Thou  knowest 
best! 

Thou    who,    impartial,    blessings    spreadst 

abroad, 
Thou  wisdom,  Love,  and  Truth,  —  divinely 

God! 

Who  giveth  joy  and  tears,  conflict  and  rest, 
Teaching  us  thus  of  Thee,  who  knowest  best  ! 

Ruler  Supreme!  to  Thee  we'll  meekly  bow, 
When  we  have  learned  of  Truth  what  Thou 

doest  now  — 
Why  from  this  festive  hour  some  dear  lost 

guest 
Bears  hence  its  sunlit  glow  —  Thou  knowest 

best! 


78       ,      P:OE5VI&  BY,  MARY   BAKER   EDDY 

How  have  our  honored  dead  fought  on  in 

gloom! 
Peace  her  white  wings  will  spread  over  their 

tomb; 

Why  waited  their  reward,  triumph  and  rest, 
Till  molds  the  hero  form?  Thou  knowest 

best! 

Shades  of  our  heroes!  the  Union  now  is  one, 
The  star  whose  destiny  none  may  outrun; 
Tears  of  the  bleeding  slave  poured  on  her 

breast, 
When  to  be  wiped  away,  Thou  knowest  best ! 

Thou  who  in  the  Christ  hallowed  its  grief,  — 
O  meekest  of  mourners,  while  yet  the  chief,  — 
Give  to  the  pleading  hearts  comfort  and  rest, 
In  that  benediction  which  knoweth  best! 

Lynn,  Mass.,  December  7,  1865. 


POEMS  BY  MARY  BAKER  EDDY      79 

SATISFIED 

T  matters  not  what  be  thy  lot, 

So  Love  doth  guide; 
For  storm  or  shine,  pure  peace  is 

thine, 
Whatever  betide. 

And  of  these  stones,  or  tyrants'  thrones, 

God  able  is 
To  raise  up  seed  —  in  thought  and  deed  — 

To  faithful  His. 

Aye,  darkling  sense,  arise,  go  hence! 

Our  God  is  good. 
False  fears  are  foes  —  truth  tatters  those, 

When  understood. 

Love  looseth  thee,  and  lifteth  me, 

Ayont  hate's  thrall: 
There  Life  is  light,  and  wisdom  might, 

And  God  is  All. 

The  centuries  break,  the  earth-bound  wake, 

God's  glorified! 
Who  doth  His  will  —  His  likeness  still  — 

Is  satisfied. 

Pleasant  View,  Concord,  N.  H.,  January,  1900. 


THE  .  PLIMPTON  .  PRESS 

[W.D.O] 
NORWOOD  .  MASS  •  U  •  8  •  A 


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